


when trashmouth met kaspbrak

by macsdennis



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Bottom Richie Tozier, Comedian Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eventual Smut, Everybody Lives, Fluff and Humor, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, M/M, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, RomCom AU, Top Eddie Kaspbrak, When Harry Met Sally AU, but neither of them know it yet, just two oblivious soulmates who don't know they're soulmates yet, set in New York, set over 10 years
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:40:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27102841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macsdennis/pseuds/macsdennis
Summary: Eddie Kaspbrak and Richie Tozier, two polar opposite strangers, take a roadtrip from Maine to New York together in the Autumn of 2005. They part ways, expecting never to see one another again.Is it mere coincidence or something stronger that keeps pulling them back together over the years?
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Eddie Kaspbrak/Original Male Character(s), Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris, Richie Tozier/Original Female Character(s), Richie Tozier/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter One

**SEPTEMBER, 2005**

**Derry, Maine**

Tall, dark hair, big glasses: that’s what Samantha had told Eddie to look out for. Eddie drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he drove cautiously towards the gates leading onto campus, peering in front of him to try and spot his new travelling partner. There was a large, spaced-out crowd trickling out of the university campus, with lots of people hugging and laughing and crying. Eddie huffed to himself as he pulled up next to the curb, still craning his neck to look out of the window.

Then, a shock of curly brown hair caught his eye. Eddie had miraculously managed to pull up right next to Samantha; her back was to the car, but he could tell it was her. But upon further inspection, she seemed slightly busy, Eddie realised, as he noticed a pair of large hands wrapped around her back. She seemed to be caught in a lip-lock with this infamous Richie Tozier, who was still simply an anonymous pair of hands to Eddie.

He decided to give them a couple of minutes to themselves before he announced himself, looking resolutely out the front window.

A minute passed.

Eddie looked back out of the side window – they were still at it.

He sighed and rolled down the window. Nothing.

“Ahem.”

He saw Samantha shift her position, but it seemed only to be so she could press herself even closer to Richie.

“Ahem!”

Finally, Samantha jumped and turned around. Her cheeks were pink as she looked about herself, then her eyes finally settled on Eddie. He smiled in a way that he hoped didn’t betray his irritation; Samantha grimaced.

“Sorry, Eddie.” She extracted herself from the pair of hands and leant down to peer into Eddie’s car. “Eddie Kaspbrak, this is Richie Tozier Eddie, Richie, Richie, Eddie.” She was gabbling, and Eddie could tell she was nervous for them to meet, so he smiled at her encouragingly.

Then the anonymous Richie bent down as well, which was more of a feat for him – Eddie guessed he must be at least six-foot-tall, if not a few inches more. A badly shaven face peered into the open window, complete with large, black-framed glasses that magnified deep brown eyes, and a slightly goofy grin. Eddie’s first thought was that Richie’s hair looked like it could do with a brush – it was dark and curly and slightly wild, almost touching the collar of his ugly Hawaiian shirt. Eddie could honestly say that he had never seen Richie around the university campus. It made sense – Eddie hadn’t been exactly what one could call a social butterfly during his four years – also because Richie didn’t look like the type of person that Eddie would want to hang out with. He wasn’t entirely sure what Samantha saw in him – maybe she had a thing for slogan t-shirts under ugly flower patterns – and all he knew about the guy was that he majored in Liberal Arts.

“Hey, Eds.” Richie’s voice was deep and rather attractive in a gravelly, 40-cigarettes-a-day kind of way, but Eddie found himself too distracted with the unwelcome nickname to appreciate this. “Looks like it’s you and me for the foreseeable, eh?”

“It’s Eddie,” Eddie replied shortly. “And only for seven hours. The back’s open.”

Richie raised his dark eyebrows and his grin fell into a lopsided smirk. “Thanks.”

For ten more minutes, Eddie was forced to endure the anxiety of Richie opening the trunk and slinging his bag (he only had two bags!) in with a suspicious thud, and the irritation of listening to him and Samantha smooching and promising that they would call each other from the road. Eventually, when Eddie thought his brain might just explode, he slammed his fist on the horn.

From the very minute they set off, Eddie could tell he had made a grave mistake.

Richie clambered into the front and spent an anxiety-inducing few minutes trying to move his seat back to accommodate his long legs, ignoring all of Eddie’s instructions.

Once Richie had finally settled into his seat, Eddie figured it was time to set out the plans for the road-trip.

“So, it’s seven hours from Maine to New York, I’ve split the journey up, so we have four stops on the way and we’ll each drive two shifts of roughly an hour and twenty, give or take. There’s a gas station a few hours away so we can stop there and a diner on the way that we should reach around seven, so we can grab some dinner. We can split the driving into shifts based on that, or alternatively we could… um, do it, do it by mileage…”

Eddie trailed off as he heard shuffling coming from the passenger seat; Richie was craning over the to reach into the back, grabbing his other bag. After some suspicious rustling, he pulled a packet of chips out of his back pocket and began crunching them, apparently not seeing Eddie’s look of disgust.

“I don’t usually eat in the car.” Eddie eventually huffed out.

He heard Richie shift in his seat, rearranging his legs. “Shit, sorry, man, did you want one?”

“What did I just say?”

“Jeez Louise, sorry.” Richie chuckled. Then, before Eddie could stop him, he rolled down the window and threw the empty bag of chips out.

“That’s littering!” Eddie was so outraged that he took his eyes off the road for a second to glare at Richie in disgust. His companion was grinning, delightedly licking salt off his fingers.

“Would you have really rather I kept the empty packet in the car, spilling leftover crumbs all over your, like, fucking pristine car floor?”

Eddie turned back to the road, gripping the steering wheel with more force than he intended.

Stony silence descended over the car for a minute or so, until:

“So, why don’t you tell me the story of your life? We’ve got seven hours to kill.”

Eddie huffed out a sardonic laugh. “The story of my life? The story of my life won’t even get us out of Maine, nothing’s happened to me yet.”

“So that’s why you’re going to New York, so something will happen to you?”

“Yes.”

“Like what, pray tell?”

“Like I’m going to become a journalist.”

“So, you can, what, write about shit that happen to other people?”

Eddie furrowed his brow. “I suppose that’s one way to look at it.”

“Dude, that’s, like, the only way to look at it.”

“And what are you doing in New York that allows you to look down on my career plans with such condescension?”

Richie chuckled deeply. “Woah, Eds, chill out. There’s nothing wrong with your lofty fucking plans for the future or whatever, I am but a humble jester offering some hilarious commentary for this road-trip.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “It’s Eddie, where do you get off calling me Eds, huh?”

“Well, now I’ve noticed it makes you blush, why would I stop?”

Irritatingly, Eddie felt his face heat up. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Hm?”

“What are you doing in New York?”

To Eddie’s surprise, Richie paused for a second, clearing his throat; risking a glance away from the road, he could see the taller man had changed his position again and was blushing slightly. Oh God, Eddie thought. Was he planning on becoming a pornstar?

“I’m going to do stand-up.”

“Stand up? Stand up where?”

Richie snorted. “Jesus Christ, not standing up. Stand-up comedy. Like, on a stage, making jokes? You know, Jerry Seinfeld, Adam Sandler, Wanda Sykes…”

“Yes, thank you,” Eddie snapped. “I know what stand-up comedy is.”

“Yeah, it really sounded like you did, especially the part when you said, ‘Stand up where?”’

“Don’t you have to be funny to be a comedian?”

Richie whistled. “God damn, Eds. You’re a little fuckin’ firecracker, you know that?”

“It’s Eddie!”

*

“You’re wrong.”

“I am not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not!”

“It’s so far-fetched.”

“What’s so far-fetched about it?”

Eddie sighed and tapped the window impatiently. “It’s a high-school romance movie musical, why the hell would they have died at the end?”

“They didn’t fucking die at the end, man, that’s what I’m saying! Sandy and Danny flying off in that car is their, like, ascent into heaven or whatever.”

“Because they both apparently died at the beach at the beginning?”

“Yep.”

“That’s so stupid, how would all have the others seen them if they were dead?”

Richie groaned. “That’s what I’m saying, the whole thing is a, a… fuckin’ pre-death hallucination.”

“Unbelievable.” Eddie shook his head. Neither of them spoke for a few beats, but Richie was apparently unwilling to let the matter drop.

“ _Grease_ is terrible, anyway.”

“What? How can you say that?”

“With great ease, actually. The songs are awful, the actors are all, like, a hundred years old but play seventeen-year-olds… like, okay, Rizzo, that, uh… Stockard Channing, that’s her name. She was, like, fucking thirty or something! And the main message of the film is ridiculous. Like, Sandy changes herself completely, starts smoking and dresses like a goddamn hooker on acid for some dumb guy who looks like a gay rejected extra from _GoodFellas_ , and all he has to do is put on a dumb ass letterman jacket and then take it off again immediately to dance around like a prick? No thank you.”

Eddie realised his mouth was open in shock as Richie reached the end of his speech and closed it abruptly. Thankfully, before he could think of a cutting retort, a bright sign caught his eye.

“Hey. Hey! There’s the diner.”

“Jeez, no need to shout.”

“You were going to miss the turn-off!”

“I absolutely wasn’t.” Richie retorted as he swung the car around violently, making Eddie silently say his first real prayer since leaving Catholic school. “You need to loosen up, man.”

Loosen up. Just how many times had Eddie heard that phrase, or variations of it, in his life? Loosen up, you’re so uptight. Chill out, relax. Don’t be so neurotic. Well, Eddie couldn’t help the way he was. And, moreover, he preferred being a neat and organised person with a good work-ethic and tidy habits over being a lazy, cynical slob who didn’t know how to use a hairbrush.

This grumbling train of thought brought the car to a half in the tiny parking lot outside the diner. Still frowning to himself, Eddie got out of the car. Richie lumbered out of his side, and Eddie winced as the taller man stretched and cracked his back, his awful slogan tee riding up under the Hawaiian shirt to reveal a sliver of flat, hairy tummy.

“Samantha didn’t say how small you were.”

Eddie snapped his head up to glare at Richie. “We’ve been in the car together for three hours. And I’m not that small, asshole. Five foot nine is average.”

“Yeah, but I haven’t seen you stand up because you refused to use the toilets at the gas station.”

“Do you know how fucking disgusting those things are?” Eddie hissed, marching around the car to push past Richie.

“Why are we at a diner anyway?” Richie ignored this last comment and scratched his head as he took in the building. “We could have just got a McDonalds or something.”

“I don’t eat fast food.”

The diner was quite clearly a homage to the fifties, complete with a black-and-white checkerboard floor, bright red table booths and a huge jukebox in the corner. It was almost empty save for the bored looking waitresses behind the counter and a few customers dotted around.

Richie grinned as he slid into the seat of the booth they had chosen. “Is this an appropriate time to continue our _Grease_ argument, now we’re surrounded by all this shitty fifties paraphernalia?”

Eddie narrowed his eyes for a second, considering the scruffy man sat opposite him, then relented and smiled against his better judgement. “I always felt bad for Tom.”

“Tom? The blonde beefcake that Sandy bins for Danny?”

“Yeah. That’s why I felt bad for him, she just left him at the track to go and follow Danny around again.”

“I’m sure he appreciates your fuckin’ concern for his wellbeing.” Eddie watched Richie’s hands as they fiddled with a sugar packet, ripping the edges. His fingers were long and thick – Eddie guessed his hands must be twice the size of his own.

“Imagine the sex they had though.”

Eddie’s eyes widened as they shot up to Richie’s face; he was grinning slyly.

“Huh?”

“I’m just saying. Tom was a hunk.”

“Sandy was a virgin, remember?”

“Oh, come on. Who would resist him? Plus he was so goddamn stupid that was probably all the fucker was good for, right?”

Eddie felt his heart start beating faster, and mentally told himself to calm down. “Are you… are you joking?”

“Joking about what?” Richie asked innocently.

Eddie could feel his face heat up again and tried to be delicate. “You, calling Tom a… a hunk. I thought you were… with Samantha?”

“I am.”

“So…”

“What can I get you boys?”

Eddie jolted and looked up; one of the waitresses was stood by their table, notepad in hand, looking like she would rather be anywhere than the diner. Immediately Eddie sprang into action, disregarding the menu, desperate to move away from the indelicate topic.

“Could I please get a decaf Americano with no milk in it, but with a little jug of warm milk on the side? And I’ll get the chicken Caesar salad but with the sauce and croutons on the side and only Romaine lettuce, if there’s no Romaine lettuce then I’ll have the soup of the day, but only if it isn’t split-pea.”

The waitress blinked. “The soup of the day is cream of tomato.”

“Is the Caesar salad made with just Romaine lettuce?”

“Um… no.”

“Then I’ll have the soup, with toasted white bread on the side.”

The waitress didn’t move.

“And the coffee.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Right.” She turned to Richie, whom Eddie suddenly realised was looking at him with a strange expression on his face. “And for you, sir?”

“I’ll, uh. I’ll just get the cheeseburger and a Coors.”

“Any sides with the burger?”

“Just fries, please.”

With one last glare at Eddie, the waitress left. Eddie frowned. “She wasn’t very friendly.”

“Maybe because you just made up an entirely new menu?”

“I just like things the way I like them. Anyway, you shouldn’t be drinking.”

“Jeez, man, I’m not driving for another two hours, almost. It’s one fucking beer.” Richie rubbed his eyes and yawned, showing surprisingly white and straight teeth, with the slightest hint of an overbite. “Anyway, what were you saying before?”

“Oh, um…” Eddie looked away awkwardly, choosing to watch Richie’s hands again, which were clasped on the table in front of him. “Nothing, I don’t remember.”

“I’m bisexual. If that’s what you were wondering.”

“Oh. Right.”

Richie raised his dark brows until they disappeared under his curly fringe. “Is that a problem?”

“No!” Eddie jumped at the loud volume of his voice; Richie sniggered. Eddie sighed and tried to start again. “No, of course it’s not a problem.” His heard sped up again as he prepared himself for the next sentence. “I’m g-gay, actually.”

It never got easier. Every single time – Eddie had spent so long pretending, so long acting like there wasn’t a pile of magazines under his bed that he willed himself to pick up every night but never did, so long going along with his high school friends who would lust after the girls in their classes, so long gritting his teeth and shrugging whenever family members would ask when he was bringing a girl home. University had been a new chapter; in the months leading up to finally leaving home, Eddie would dream about his new life where he was able to be himself, tell as many people as he wanted that he was gay, go to parties and kiss as many boys as he wanted, finally stop pretending.

But it never got any easier, the coming out. It was always more terrifying than the last. Sometimes Eddie wondered if this was normal.

“No shit.”

Eddie blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m just saying, no shit. I could tell.”

Richie had such a shit-eating grin on his face that Eddie felt like he could punch him. “What do you mean, you could tell? You can’t tell, there’s no way you can tell.”

“Yes, I can.”

“And that’s so insensitive, Tozier, to say something like that, okay? You can’t say that when someone comes out to you, it’s not fucking nice.”

Eddie looked down, suddenly embarrassed by his outburst. There was a tense silence, broken only by the tinny tune coming from the jukebox, and then Eddie felt a large foot kick his ankle. He looked up to see a surprisingly sombre expression on the other man’s face.

“Hey, you’re right. I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s fine,” Eddie mumbled. “Don’t worry about it.”

In the brief silence that followed, the waitress brought over their food and drinks. To her credit, she had done exactly what Eddie had asked; he rewarded her with what he thought was a charming smile, but was given only a raised eyebrow in return as she turned to walk back behind the counter.

The odd couple ate in silence for a while, Eddie trying not to focus on how Richie ate with his mouth open and had a habit of shoving fries inside his burger before taking a bite. He looked resolutely down into his soup.

“So,” Richie suddenly said when he had swallowed a particularly large mouthful. “How did you know?”

“How did I know what?”

“That you’re gay. How did you, like, realise?”

“Oh. Um…”

“You don’t have to answer, I’m just curious. Nosy.”

“No, it’s okay.” Eddie scrunched his nose up whilst he thought; for some reason, Richie smiled – not his usual goofy grin, but a slow, almost pretty smile.

“I guess when I was in fifth grade, maybe? My friends started, like, holding hands with girls. And I just… didn’t want to. But there was this one kid I was friends with, and I remember I really wanted to hold his hand.”

“And did you?”

Eddie snorted. “No. God, no. I would’ve got punched.”

“So then what?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, first kiss? Any boyfriends?”

“Not in high school. I had a girlfriend, Myra, in eleventh grade.”

Richie grinned. “A girlfriend with a big, bushy beard, perhaps?”

Despite himself, Eddie laughed. “She’s the only beard I’ve ever been able to have. Seriously, I can’t grow facial hair.”

“Dude, you’re lucky. Shaving is such a fuckin’ pain, and I never do it properly.” Richie scratched at his scruffy chin as if to illustrate his point, then continued. “So, what happened to Beardy Myra?”

“Oh, I just got sick of her.”

“You little heartbreaker.”

“You can only break a heart if someone actually has one. She was like… I don’t know. She had good intentions, I guess.”

Perhaps Richie could sense that Eddie didn’t want to talk about Myra anymore, so he steered the conversation forward. “Any boyfriends at university, then? I don’t particularly remember there being many people out of the closet over the last four years.”

Eddie huffed out a short laugh. “Not really.” He caught Richie’s eye suddenly across the table, who had a sort of cheekily interested expression on his face. “I’m not a virgin, though,” Eddie hurriedly added. “If that’s what you were thinking. I did have some experiences at college, believe it or not.”

“Good for you, Eds.”

“Eddie. And I don’t need your… congratulations. I’m not a kid.”

“I know that.” Richie smirked. For a moment, he looked as though he was considering speaking again, tapping his fork against his full lips.

Eddie looked at him quizzically. “What?”

Richie’s smirk turned into a half-smile. “I bet you’ve never had any good sex.”

As Richie spoke, Eddie had taken a mouthful of soup, which unfortunately decided to go down the wrong tube and make him choke. Eddie spluttered slightly, feeling his face turn red. And Richie still had that fucking grin on his face.

After he recovered, Eddie frowned at Richie incredulously. “How the hell did you reach that conclusion?”

“You’re too uptight, Eds. You’ve never been given a mind-blowing orgasm, or had your back blown out, and it shows.”

Eddie found himself lost for words for a second, his mouth simply shutting and closing like a goldfish as Richie contentedly ate his burger. Eddie swallowed and folded his arms indignantly.

“I have had plenty of good sex, thank you very much.”

“No, you haven’t.”

“Yes, I have!”

“With whom?”

“What?”

“With whom did you have this good sex?”

Eddie huffed. “I’m not going to tell you that!”

“Fine, don’t tell me.” He smiled placidly and stuffed a few chips in his mouth. Eddie glared at him.

“Greg Stevens.”

Alarmingly, Richie made a loud noise like a buzzer. “Hold up. Greg? Greg… Greg from Samantha’s classes, that Greg? Gregory? You did not have great fuckin’ sex with a guy named Gregory.”

“Yes, I did.” Eddie wondered if Richie was playing out some bit, or if he could tell that the sex with Greg in his second year of college had actually been sweaty and quick and disappointing.

“Absolutely fucking not, man. Nobody called Gregory is remotely sexy.”

Eddie frowned. “Gregory Peck. He’s sexy.”

“Granted, but I mean a real person who isn’t famous and a dilf. Gregory… he can do your taxes. If you need a root canal, Greg’s your guy. But humpin’ and pumpin’ is not Greg’s strong suit.”

“I – “

Richie’s voice suddenly changed into what Eddie could only assume was a garbled impersonation of him: “Give it to me Greg, ride me Greg, you’re an animal… Greg. See? Doesn’t work.”

Eddie shook his head. He couldn’t believe the brashness, the sheer gall of the man sat in front of him.

Richie continued. “How many guys have you slept with?”

“I’m not telling you that.”

“Okay, don’t tell me.”

Richie took a swig of his beer. Eddie recrossed his arms.

“Two.”

“You’ve slept with two guys and you’re telling me, based on that number, whether or not you’ve had great sex?”

“I said good, not great.”

“Sex should either be great or non-existent.”

“How many people have you slept with that gives you this breadth of experience?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

Richie shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Eddie shook his head. “Ballpark. Three? Ten? Twenty?”

“Closer to twenty.”

Eddie couldn’t help but gawp. “Really? And all before you got together with Samantha?”

Richie snorted, looking slightly hurt. “Obviously. I’m not a fucking cheat, man. Despite all the societal rumours about my sexuality.”

“Yeah, okay. Sorry.”

*

Irritatingly, Richie left a handful of loose notes and change on the table as his payment. “That should be enough.”

Eddie eyed the money warily and carried on working out hi portion.

He felt eyes on him even as his head was bent over and looked up suspiciously. Sure enough, Richie was staring at him, a strange little half-smile on his big face.

“What?”

He carried on staring. Eddie suddenly felt self-conscious and his hands flew to his mouth. “Is there food on my face?”

Richie shook his head before speaking, still smirking. “You’re very attractive.”

“Oh.” Eddie sat up slightly straighter. Richie had only had one beer, right? “Thank you.”

“Sam never said you were so attractive.”

Eddie could feel his cheeks start to turn pink. “Maybe she doesn’t find me attractive.” Eddie didn’t particularly find himself attractive if he was honest. Sure, he had worked hard for the tight, lean body he now had, and he supposed his brown hair looked okay sometimes, if it was a good day. But inside, he still felt like the fat, freckled loser that he had been during high school.

“I don’t think it’s a matter of opinion, man. You’re an attractive person.”

Something in the glint of Richie’s eyes behind his glasses put Eddie on high alert. “Richie.”

“What?”

“Samantha is my friend.”

“So?”

Eddie shook his head incredulously and dropped his share of the bill on the table, getting up and walking out of the nearby exit. He heard Richie following him out of the door into the cold.

“So, you’re going with her!”

“So?”

Eddie turned to face Richie, his arms folded. Annoyingly, he had to tilt his head back slightly in order to make eye contact with the taller man.

“So, you’re… you’re coming onto me!”

Richie laughed, which managed to piss Eddie off even more. He stomped past him and aggressively opened the car door, throwing himself into the passenger seat.

“Hey, genius? It’s your turn to drive.”

Shit.

Resolutely not looking at Richie, Eddie got up and walked back around to the driver’s seat. It would have been easier to just climb over, but Eddie knew that he’d do something wrong and end up sitting on the gearstick, or kneeing himself in the face, and he didn’t want to give Richie that satisfaction.

Richie sat down heavily in the passenger seat, automatically propping one of his feet up on the dashboard.

“Will you get your dirty shoes off there?” Eddie hissed, rooting around his car door for the air freshener.

“Just my shoes? Are you sure you want my bare feet on your dashboard? Damn, Eds, I didn’t know you were into that.”

Eddie gave up the hunt, burying his face in his hands. “I can’t believe we have four more hours in this car.”

“Roughly. It’ll be fun!”

Eddie didn’t reply.

“I wasn’t coming on to you, by the way.”

“Yes, you were.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

Eddie looked up incredulously. “You _just_ said I was attractive, like, ten minutes ago!”

“That doesn’t count as a come on. Hey, wanna check into a motel?”

Eddie felt his heart flip over as he once again took on the appearance of a goldfish.

“What the – “

“ _That_ was a come on. Surely a bisexual man can tell another man who just so happens to be gay that he finds him attractive, without it being a come on.”

“I don’t – “

“But, hey man, maybe you’re right! I take it back.”

“You can’t take it back.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s already out there!”

“Oh, jeez!” Richie threw up his hands in mock fear, lapsing into a scared, little-girl voice. “It’s already out there, whatever are we to do! Someone call the police!”

“Are you going to be such a goddamn asshole for the rest of this trip, or do you think you can reel it in?”

“Depends.”

“Depends on what.”

“Whether you keep taking the bait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i finally decided to admit to my reddie trashiness and write a fic
> 
> i rewatched when harry met sally the other day and it struck me how similar the two main characters are to richie and eddie, and inspiration struck 
> 
> i'm completely unsure if this idea has been used yet, and if it has then i promise i didn't know!! 
> 
> hope you all enjoy so far
> 
> p.s. i'm english so apologies if any of my american vernacular/facts are off <3


	2. Chapter 2

**2008**

“No, Lucinda, look… okay, fine. Whatever, then, be like that. I can’t – I can’t talk now, okay, I’ve got this fuckin’ flight to catch, just… fine, Jesus, fine. Bye.”

Richie ended the call and shut his eyes in frustration, briefly wondering if he was strong enough to crush the Nokia in his hand. Probably not, he reasoned – those things were strong enough to create a hole in the ground if you even dropped it.

Of course Lucinda would ring him just before his flight to tell him that his gig was cancelled – it wasn’t enough that she ran the least popular comedy club in New York City, no, she had to be a sarcastic bitch about it as well. She and Richie had never seen eye to eye, but Richie had continued working with her over the last three years out of necessity: being a struggling comedian in New York was neither fun nor easy, and if Richie could find any opportunity to showcase his talents, boy did he cling onto them.

Even if his sets were usually met mostly with uncertain giggles, heckles and the occasional bottle being thrown at the stage.

He still had a small scar on his forehead from that incident.

“Here’s your coffee, hon.”

The stout woman behind the counter pushed Richie’s drink towards him; he accepted it gratefully and made a swift exit out of the shop, continuing into the main bulk of the airport.

Los Angeles had been pretty fun, he had to admit. Seeing his parents, with their new tans and fancy new pool, had been nice, and they had obviously been excited to spend some time with him again – although they usually expressed this through shooting questions about work and love life at him.

“Richie, doll, have you met any nice girls yet?”

Richie wasn’t sure that his incredibly orthodox Jewish mother would consider any of the girls and guys he picked up in random bars to be ‘nice’.

“Rich, why don’t you settle down with this job, hm? Give up the little hobby.”

Richie never had the heart to tell his old-school successful father that his job made him want to pull his own eyes out, and that his ‘little hobby’ was the only thing that stopped him from keeling over and dying the typical New York death where nobody finds the body until the smell eventually drifts up into the apartments above.

As Richie walked through the airport thinking about his beloved, clueless parents, he realised that he had become a walking, talking cliché: waiter by day, struggling comic by night. Welcome to the dream, kids.

Suddenly, something whizzing past thumped into Richie’s shoulder with the force of a small rhinoceros, and lukewarm liquid jumped out of the cheap paper cup in his hand, with most of it unfortunately landing on his t-shirt.

“Jesus Christ!”

“Holy shit, sorry, oh my God…”

The force of nature that had hit Richie like a brick began ineffectually dabbing at his shirt, and Richie was finally able to gather his bearings enough to realise that it was, in fact, a man who had run into him at what felt like the speed of light.

“Hey, man, it’s fine,” Richie tried to flap the man away, whose face was still concealed by the fact that he was peering intensely at Richie’s shirt as he dabbed. “Leave it, dude, just leave it.”

“Jesus, I was in my own world, I’m so…” the man trailed off suddenly, and Richie realised that he was looking straight up at him. He was pretty short, much shorter than Richie, with the biggest brown eyes that Richie had ever seen and short, chestnut coloured hair. He was wearing the kind of suit that Richie only thought existed in the world of courtroom television dramas, and was looking up with a strange, wondering expression.

Huh.

He looked familiar. Richie furrowed his brow.

“Do I… do I know you from somewhere?”

The shorter man frowned, his eyes going from wide brown saucers to squinted-up little daggers. “Um…”

Richie suddenly clapped his hands together. The car! Derry! The fucking awful diner! “Hey! Hey, it’s _you_ , I know you! You’re –“

“I’m late,” the man suddenly stumbled backwards slightly, his face now drawn into an expression halfway between irritation and terror. “I, um, I have a flight to catch. I’m sorry about, about your shirt.”

Before Richie could protest, Eddie Kaspbrak had turned on his heel and practically sprinted away; he was lost almost immediately in a crowd of people surging towards Richie. He frowned to himself.

Did the guy really hate him that much?

*

An impatient glower from the woman sitting next to Richie on the uncomfortable, economy-class plane seats made him try his best to stop tapping his foot up and down in the aisle – but flights made him nervous, damn it, and he always had so much pent-up energy. The plane was almost full, so Richie attempted to content himself with watching young couples argue over the bags, families with kids struggle to find their seats, and tried to ignore the fact that he was essentially paying a lump sum of his pitiful wages to take a flight back to the most expensive city in the world, where he didn’t even have a gig to perform at. All he had back in New York was his tiny apartment, some beers he had saved in the cooler and a possible dinner date with some guy he had hooked up with after a show, but whom Richie didn’t even like very much.

God, when had his life become so depressing?

Still, he mused to himself. He had Ben to look after him. Richie smiled. Lovely Ben, sweet Ben, his adorable roommate. Ben Hanscom, the brown-haired, blue-eyed, muscled-up wonderboy, had been Richie’s first friend in New York City. Before he was promoted to his shitty job as waiter and host at Gugino’s, Richie had been working his shitty job as a pot washer… at Gugino’s. He remembered walking out of the kitchen porter’s area (the equivalent of the restaurant’s sweaty ass) to place some clean glasses behind the bar and spotting Ben sat with a drink and a few buddies. Ben had been fat back then, there was no denying it – at twenty-one, had had been a fresh-faced, chubby teddy bear of a guy, gingerly sipping a virgin strawberry daquiri and looking strangely out of place with the rest of his friends. Richie wasn’t sure what had made him do it, but he struck up a conversation with the adorable guy about how shitty the Italian food was, before his fascist manager shouted at him to get back to washing glasses. Richie had seen Ben a few more times, leading to a tentative friendship, which soon lapsed into a sort of brotherhood.

They had moved in together after six months of knowing each other, into a tiny little matchbox apartment in the Meat Packing District. Sure, it was small, and the toilet didn’t always flush, and there were about a hundred cats that screeched outside the window every night, and their landlady was a sadistic old crone who liked to listen into their phone calls (Richie could always hear her breathing heavily down the line) – but it was theirs. Ben was a wonderful roommate – in three years, he had never given Richie any cause for complaint. He didn’t give a rat’s ass that Richie was bisexual – when Rich had decided to tell him, just before moving in, he was nervous for a moment that Ben would change his mind about living together. Ben Hanscom had simply shrugged, smiled and said “Okay!” His cooking was divine, and he made sure that Richie didn’t live off leftovers from the restaurant and Chinese takeaway. “You need to look after yourself, Rich,” Ben would say reproachfully after returning from the gym to find his roommate sprawled on the sofa stuffing day-old egg rolls into his mouth. Ben went on a fitness kick after about a year of living with Richie and had since become a complete Adonis. Richie occasionally peered at his own skinny arms and soft, hairy belly and considered joining Ben at the gym. But his bed always looked so much more inviting…

And sure, Richie would screw Benjamin Hanscom, of course he would. Hell, Richie reckoned that anyone would, regardless of sexuality – he was tall, muscular, as handsome as a 1930s movie star, and the gentlest soul that Richie had ever met. But, unfortunately, he was as straight as a ruler, and not one of those bendy plastic rulers that schoolkids have in their pencil cases. Anyway, he was like a brother to Rich by this point.

Maybe they would go out tonight, Richie pondered. Since his gig was cancelled, he had a free evening, and his flight got in at three, giving him plenty of time to chill out at the apartment. Maybe he would ring Stan and Patty, see if they were around…

“Good morning ladies and gentlemen, and welcome aboard this Delta Airline flight to New York.”

A leggy blonde flight attendant was speaking into the microphone at the front of the plane. Richie shut his eyes and zoned out, preparing for lift-off.

*

A sharp tap on Richie’s shoulder made him jerk his head around; the same flight attendant from before, with the yellow-blonde hair and long legs, was leaning over him. Her mouth was moving but all Richie could hear was LCD Soundsystem blaring in his ears. He yanked his headphones off and grinned up at the attendant. “Sorry about that, I was busy having a one-sided conversation with James Murphy.”

The woman blinked.

“James Murphy? LCD Soundsystem?”

A startled gasp came from Richie’s right side. “LSD?” He turned to squint at the old bat sat next to him who had been glaring at his restless leg. “Drugs? On the plane?”

“No!” Richie had to fight the urge not to laugh. “No, fuckin’ – oh, forget it. I’m not on drugs, okay?” He turned back to the flight attendant. “I think if I was trying to smuggle drugs across the country I would’ve been caught by now, right?”

“I…” The blonde blinked again. “Would you like a drink from the cart?”

Richie sighed. “Yeah, sure. Got any, uh… you got any Coors?”

Two minutes later, Richie was grimacing as he sipped a lukewarm cup of beer. Four fucking dollars, and for this shit. Surely his alcohol problem could have waited until he got back to New York?

As the cart trundled slowly up the aisle, Richie absentmindedly watched the stewardess’ ass as she bent over to serve another passenger. Yeah, yeah, it wasn’t very feminist-y or decent of him, but what was he supposed to do? It was right there in front of him!

He was about to shove on his headphone again and pointedly ignore the old lady he was stuck with for the next three hours, but suddenly a rather loud voice made him prick up his ears.

“No, here’s what I want. Regular tomato juice, filled up abut three quarters, but not too much ice, then a _splash_ of Bloody Mary mix, but just a splash, okay?”

Pulling his headphones back down around his neck, Richie furrowed his brow and peered over the seat in front of him to find the source of the voice. Sure enough, there he was. Eddie Kaspbrak, harassing the poor flight attendant with his fussy ordering habits. Richie smiled and shook his head.

When he was sure that Eddie was finished ordering whatever monstrosity he had decided on, Richie went against his better judgement and popped his head over the top of the seat so he was staring down at Eddie’s sandy brown hair.

“University of Maine, right?”

Eddie looked up, clearly startled, and there are those big brown eyes again. To Richie’s surprise, he responded.

“Yes.”

Richie decided to see how far he can push it; from what he could remember of that stupid road trip, Eddie Kaspbrak gets riled up easily.

“Did you look this good in Maine?”

Amazingly, the man blushed. “No.”

Richie grinned. “Did we ever…” He knew the answer, of course.

Eddie’s dark eyebrows shot halfway up his forehead. “ _No!_ Jesus Christ, no.”

The guy sat next to Eddie, who had been quietly reading his book, seemed interested, his eyebrows raised and an inquisitive look on his tired face. Once again surprising Richie, Eddie turned to his neighbour. “We drove from Maine to New York together after graduation, three years ago.”

“Would you two like to sit together?” The man enquired cheerily.

“No, I –"

“Yes! Perfect!”

Before Eddie could object further, Richie was shoving himself into the seat next to him. Sucks to be you, he silently thought about the man with whom he was swapping seats: you have to sit next to that old bat.

He grinned at Eddie, who didn’t smile.

“You were friends with…”

Oh shit. Eddie rolled his amazing eyes. “Samantha. I can’t believe you don’t remember her name.”

“I do, I absolutely do, Samantha, right? Samantha Rice.”

“Reese.”

“Reese, right, that’s what I said.” Eddie took a sip of his drink, somehow managing to make the movement passive aggressive. Richie tried again. “Whatever happened to her?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? You were, like, best friends with that girl, how do you not know? We never made it because you were such good friends.”

Eddie stifled an incredulous laugh. “Richie, believe it or not, but there were other factors that came into my decision not to sleep with you.”

“Ha!” Eddie blinked at Richie’s outburst. “You do remember my name.”

“Of course I do, it was only three fucking years ago, I’m not decrepit.”

“How old are you, then? Like… thirty?”

Eddie frowned angrily. “We’re the same age, asshole, and you know it. I’m twenty-four.”

“Twenty-four? You’re dressed like a middle-aged businessman.” Richie ran a long finger down one of Eddie’s suit lapels and immediately had his hand slapped away. “What do you do? Ooh, let me guess. You’re a lawyer? Some big hot-shot attorney? Wait, no, you’re an ad executive, like Don Draper! Have you seen Mad Men yet?”

“No!” Eddie pinched the bridge of his cute little nose. “God, you’re just like I remember, you talk so much.”

“That’s my charm, Eds.”

“Eddie. No, I’m not in advertising, I’m not completely soulless, and I’m not a lawyer. I’m a journalist. I wanted to go to journalism school, remember?”

“Nope,” Richie replies cheerily, popping the ‘p’. “Well how about that, Eds.”

“Eddie.”

“A journalist. What paper?”

“New York Times.”

“Damn, Eddie! Impressive.” Richie suddenly frowned, realising something. “Wait, you were going in the opposite direction to me when you decided to throw coffee all over my shirt.”

“God, I really am –“

“Dude, it’s fine, I don’t care. But why are you on this flight? You weren’t going the same way as me.”

“Oh, um.” At a rather alarming quickness, Eddie’s pale face turned magenta. “I was running back to say goodbye to my, my boyfriend. I wanted to go and check the line before boarding the flight, so he waited for me on the other side of the barrier to, um, say goodbye again.”

Richie grinned mischievously. “So, you and this anonymous boyfriend already said bye… then you went back for round two?”

“He’s not anonymous just because you don’t know him, dickhead.” Eddie snapped. “And yes. It was quite romantic, actually, which is something you clearly don’t care about if you’re the same guy I shared a car with three years ago.”

“Ouch, Eds!” Feigning what he knew was a terrible British accent, Richie dramatically placed a hand over his heart, an expression of mock upset on his stubbly face. “You’ve cut me to my quick.”

Eddie didn’t reply, just rolled his eyes skyward again. Richie swore that in the last half hour he had seen the whites of Eddie’s eyes more than the actual irises. He decided to press further.

“What’s his name?”

“Joe.”

“Why’s he still in L.A.?”

“He has week-long business trip starting today, we flew together so we could have a weekend away.”

“How did you meet?”

“Mutual friend. His sister is dating a guy I work with.”

“Boring.”

“How is that –“

“So, you’ve been seeing each other, what, three weeks?”

Eddie, who had been pointedly looking at the seat in front of him and avoiding Richie’s gaze, suddenly turned towards his companion, a look of incredulity on his sharp little face. “A month. How did you know that?”

“If you take someone to the airport, it’s obviously the beginning of the relationship.”

“And how does that work?”

“It just does. That’s why I’ve never taken anyone to the airport at the beginning of a relationship.”

Eddie snorts slightly, finally smiling, albeit bemusedly. “Why?”

“Because, like, eventually, if your feelings change and things move on, I never want someone I used to have an interest in to look up at me, all sad, and say ‘hey, how come you never take me to the airport anymore?’”

By this point, Richie was aware that he sounded a bit mad. But, hey, who was he if he wasn’t a relentless cynic?

Eddie huffed some air out of his mouth. “You know, it’s strange, you almost look like a normal person, but you’re actually the Angel of Death.”

“Hey, that’s not fair! I’m actually quite a positive person.”

“That’s such a fucking lie, you just told me that you pre-emptively assume that any and all relationships you enter in to are going to end so you break it off before you’ve even given it a chance to progress!”

“That’s not being negative or, like, all doom and gloom, that’s just called being cynical. And prepared.”

“Prepared for what?”

“The worst, I guess. Hey, believe it or not, I’ve had my heart broken before, and it’s not a pleasant fuckin’ experience.”

Eddie chewed his lip and seemed subdued for a moment. “Right. Sorry, Richie.”

Richie rolled his eyes and blew a childish raspberry. “Shut up, don’t feel sorry for me. And anyway, who are you to talk about being positive? From what I remember you’re, like, the angstiest little ball of nerves and pent-up aggression that I’ve ever fuckin’ met, dude.”

“I am not!”

“You so are. Remember how pissed you were when I said I didn’t like _Grease_?”

“Because who the hell doesn’t like _Grease_?” Eddie exploded, causing a few nearby passengers to turn their heads. He turned that startling shade of red again, standing out like a beacon. Richie grinned.

“Getting a little riled up, there, Eds?”

Eddie groaned. “Of all the people I had to run into at the airport.”

“Ah, don’t pretend you don’t love it. You’re livin’ the dream, here, kid.”

“Don’t call me kid, asshole. We’re the same age.”

“So, don’t you wanna hear about what I’m up to?”

“Not particularly.”

Richie raised his eyebrows. “Okay then.”

Eddie sighed and turned his face back to Richie. “I’m kidding, Rich, of course I want to hear.”

Strangely, Richie felt a sharp thrill of happiness when Eddie shortened his name. He guessed that Eddie probably got the opposite effect and was instead sorely tempted to wrap his hands around Richie’s neck – and not in a sexy way – whenever he called him ‘Eds’.

“You wanted to be a comedian, right?”

“Yeah. Wow, you remembered.”

Eddie simply smiled.

“Well, I am now.” Richie was suddenly overcome with a very rare bout of shyness. Damn those big doe eyes staring at him! “Well, I say I’m a comedian. It’s a fat fuckin’ lie, I’ve been working at a restaurant for three years, serving and tending bar. I, uh, do stand-u in the evening, when I can. Mostly on weekends, and usually in the same bar. I was meant to have a gig tonight actually, but it got cancelled.”

“Why?”

“Because Lucinda’s a complete dildo and she hates me.”

Eddie chuckled. “And why does she hate you?”

Richie was beginning to feel like he was being interrogated; it made him vaguely uncomfortable. “Oh, I dunno, man. Probably because my shows suck?”

“I can’t believe that.”

Eddie was being kind. Huh. This was new, Richie realised. Then he knew that it wouldn’t last as he opened his mouth to admit:

“And I fucked her daughter.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up.

“And never called her back.”

Eddie pursed his lips. “You’re unbelievable. I can’t feel bad for you anymore.”

“Hey, it wasn’t my fault! I thought it was a no-strings-attached kind of deal. Turns out she had many strings attached, as did I… except mine were attached elsewhere.”

“God, you’re a dick.” Eddie took an aggressive sip of his Bloody Mary and turned his gaze to face the window, where there was nothing to stare at but a vast expanse of white nothingness.

“I mean,” Richie spoke to the back of Eddie’s head. “Part of me does want to settle down at some point. You just get tired of the whole thing, you know?”

Slowly, Eddie turned his head, his interest clearly piqued. “What whole thing?”

“The whole fuckin’ life of a single guy thing. Living with your roommate who has his entire life sorted, eating leftovers every night, working a shitty job with nobody to come home to,. No regular sex.”

Eddie smirked. “So I guess your game isn’t as good as you tell everyone, huh?”

“Oh, no. It is.” Richie made his voice serious and placed a hand on his chest. “Scout’s Honour, baby.”

Eddie flushed.

“Nah, I just mean the whole process of having one-night stands or hook-ups. You have to use all your shitty pick-up lines on them in the hope that they’ll take pity on you and like, let you spend a fistful of dollars on a ridiculously expensive drink in some weak attempt to impress them, then you have to keep up the act for the whole night just in case they decide that you aren’t too repulsive to sleep with. Then you bring them home, and your roommate’s probably still up doing, like, his fuckin’ work from his actual fuckin’ job in an office, and he is way hotter than you by the way, like, way hotter, so you’re self-conscious about how your tummy looks next to Ben’s washboard stomach. Or, you end up at their apartment, which is inevitably always nicer than yours, and you don’t know where anything is and accidentally walk in on their roommate or dad or fuckin’ whatever taking a dump. And then you have to actually go through the process of having sex – which is the easiest part, right, because obviously with me the sex is always mind-blowing – but then, the minute you finish, do you know what goes through your mind?” Richie paused to take a breath. “How long do I have to lie here and hold them before I can get up and go, or ask them to leave? Is thirty seconds long enough?”

There was a heavy silence between the two when Richie finished his spiel, broken only by the sounds of the flight passengers all around them. Richie saw Eddie swallow.

“Is that what you’re thinking?”

Richie shrugged. “Sure. Most guys think like that.”

“I don’t!” Eddie sounded disgusted.

“You’re the anomaly then. How long do you like to be held for afterwards?” Eddie opened his mouth, but Richie cut over him before he could reply. “All night, right? Well, there’s your problem. Somewhere between thirty seconds and all night is your problem.”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“Yeah you do.”

Eddie huffed again, facing forward. “Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to grab lunch when we land, but I’m scared you’ll up and leave halfway through.”

Grinning, Richie waggled his eyebrows. “Ooh, lunch, eh?”

“Shut up,” Eddie hissed. “I’m taken, asshole. I meant as friend, or… airplane companions.”

“Thank you for the invite, my dear Eds, but I have a prior engagement with my bed. I haven’t slept in forty-eight hours.” He pointed morosely to his eyes, which he knew were ringed with dark circles. Eddie looked alarmed.

“Why not?”

“Fucked up body clock, too much caffeine, too many jokes to write. Oh, and I was staying with my parents in L.A.”

“So?”

“My pa snores like a Goddamn tractor.”

Eddie chuckled lightly as Richie continued. “Plus, we couldn’t be friends, anyway.”

He watched Eddie’s eyes roll skyward again and saw his lips move briefly and silently, almost like he was praying to God. He could well be, Richie reckoned: praying for a lightning bolt to smite Richie and make him shut up. Richie didn’t know what it was about this kid, but he was simply drawn to him.

“And why couldn’t we be friends, Richie? Besides the obvious, which is that you are utterly irritating.”

“Well, like,” Richie shifted in his seat to look at Eddie dead-on. He noticed a smattering of freckles across his small, straight nose. “You know how some people think guys and girls can’t be friends, right? There’s always some fuckin’, I don’t know, sexual tension or something? Well, people like us, a gay guy and a slutty bisexual, could never be friends, because the sex part would always get in the way.”

“That’s not true!” Eddie protested incredulously. “I have plenty of gay friends and there’s no sex involved.”

“No you don’t.”

“Yes I do.

“No you don’t.”

“Yes, I do!”

“You only think you don’t.” Richie swigged the rest of his beer, making sure not to look away from Eddie. The expression on his face was priceless.

“Are you telling me I’m having sex with these guys against my knowledge?”

“No, I’m saying that they all want to have sex with you.”

“No they don’t.”

“Yes they do.”

“Oh, fuck off, I’m not doing this again.” A disgruntled pause. “How do you know?”

“Because just like no man can be just friends with a woman he finds attractive, no gay guy can be just friends with another gay guy he finds attractive. It’s the same across the board, if there’s a chance that you could be attracted to one another, the sex thing gets in the way and you’re ultimately doomed.”

“You’re wrong.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are!”

And so they went on in that manner until the plane began its descent and Richie had to shut his eyes, thanking his lucky stars that, whilst Eddie probably hated him, he didn’t make fun of him for his fear of landing.

They didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to each other – Richie lost him in the throng whilst he was looking for his suitcase on the conveyer belt, and when he stepped out of the airport to have a long overdue cigarette, he was surrounded by yellow cabs, any number of which could contain Eddie Kaspbrak, ready to whisk him into some anonymous corner of New York City.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello my lovelies!
> 
> finally updating this, i've come home for christmas and am finally able to focus on something other than schoolwork! love to everyone


	3. Chapter 3

**2014**

The sun beat down relentlessly, simultaneously warming Eddie’s back and making him wish that he hadn’t worn a work shirt to lunch. But truth be told, all his clothes were business-casual; Beverly often told him that he never knew how to relax.

Beverley Marsh herself was sat opposite Eddie at their outdoor table at Allard’s (Mike’s eye-wateringly expensive choice of restaurant) basking in the heat, her short red hair pushed off her fine-boned face with a stylish tortoiseshell clip. As Eddie watched his friend, she opened her eyes and smiled, sighing deeply and happily.

“Isn’t this just gorgeous?” Bev drawled, taking a long swig from her wine glass. “I’m so glad we got to do this, finally.”

“You act like Henry doesn’t take you out to dinner every spare weekend he has.” Mike chuckled, reaching over the table to top up Bev’s wine glass.

Bev made a dismissive noise. “Oh, please. Henry wouldn’t know a good restaurant if it hit him in the face.” She leaned forward conspiratorially, and Eddie realised that she was nicely tipsy on a Friday afternoon. “His favourite place to eat is _TGI Fridays_.”

Eddie chuckled. Mike winced in disgust, then offered the bottle of sauvignon-blanc to Eddie, who demurred, prompting Bev to frown.

“Darling, have another glass.”

“No, honestly. I need to do some work when I get back, and we still need to go shopping.”

Beverly groaned dramatically and popped an olive into her mouth. Mike smiled. “God, I wouldn’t want to be you two, traipsing in and out of shops in this heat. If it’s any consolation, Beverly,” he said slyly. “I’m going to get in and have a nice, cool bath with my wonderful boyfriend, and then tonight, have a gorgeous meal cooked for me from scratch.”

Bev sighed morosely. “It’s not fair that Bill is such a perfect specimen of a man. Do you know what Henry cooked for me last week? A pizza.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “That’s nice, isn’t it? It’s romantic, kneading the dough together, choosing toppings…”

“Oh, no. When I say he _made_ a pizza, he just bought a frozen one from the store and whacked it in my oven. Which, by the way, is on the blink, Mike, so could you ask Bill to come and look at it?”

“Sure.” Mike’s reply was overcut by Eddie groaning. “Why are you even still with Henry, Bev?” He shook his head. “He’s never gonna leave her.”

Beverly Marsh was wonderful in many ways – strong, intelligent, wickedly funny and possibly the most beautiful person Eddie had ever met, with her bright auburn hair, gorgeous wide mouth and legs up to her armpits. She was always up for anything, whether it be a bar crawl at two in the morning or a quiet movie night when Eddie and Joe were going through a rough patch, and her relative wealth and fame as a fashion consultant at one of the largest modelling agencies in the U.S. hadn’t made her the slightest bit conceited or aloof. Eddie had happened to meet her whilst writing a piece on an up-and-coming model; he had been charmed by her sarcastic wit and inviting aura, and the two had quickly become firm friends. However, despite all these positive traits, there was one thing that made Beverly less than perfect: her taste in men was atrocious.

Delicately, she rubbed her cheekbones and avoided eye contact with Eddie. He caught Mike’s gaze, who raised his dark eyebrows.

“You’re right, you’re right. I know you’re right.” Bev thoughtfully twisted the silver bracelet that she wore on her wrist – out of embarrassment, Bev had told all their friends that it was a gift from her cousin, but Eddie knew that it was in fact from Henry, an apologetic gift from the first time he had lied about leaving his wife. It was now two years down the line of Bev’s affair with a married man, and Eddie was yet to meet him – but he was sure that if he did, he would hate him.

Mike seemed to sense that Beverly wanted to change the subject and turned to Eddie, his warm smile making his eyes crinkle up. “What about you, Eddie? How’s Joe?”

Ah, Mike. Mike Hanlon was perhaps one of the kindest and gentlest people that Eddie had ever met; he had been Beverly’s friend first – college buddies – but Eddie had been instantly drawn to his quiet nobility. He was tall but slightly stooped, and attractive in an inconspicuous sort of way, with smooth, dark skin and dimples that peeped out whenever he smiled. Bev and Bill (Mike’s admittedly incredibly sexy boyfriend) were loud and outgoing and filled up whichever room they entered, whereas Mike Hanlon was an understated gem if Eddie had ever met once.

And Eddie was loathed to see his lovely smile fall, but as he opened his mouth to answer Mike’s question, he knew it was time to admit what he had been avoiding. Eddie licked his lips nervously.

“We broke up.”

A loud clatter made Eddie jump, and he sensed people from other tables turning around to see what the commotion was about.

“Sorry,” Bev sheepishly picked up her fork from the ground, blew on it lightly then placed it back on the cloth. Then, like a flick had been switched, her attitude changed completely. “What the hell, Eddie? When did this happen?”

“Wednesday.”

“Wednesday?” Bev exclaimed. “That was two days ago! Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Are you okay?” Mike asked in concern.

For a horrible moment, Eddie thought that the kindness in Mike’s voice might to him over the edge. He got a grip on himself and swallowed, hard. “I’m okay. Well, I… I’m not that upset. We’d been growing apart for a while.”

“But, but,” Bev paused and took a sip of wine before continuing, and Eddie was almost tempted to laugh. “You two were a couple! You had someone to cook for, someone to go places with on national holidays. And he’s so good looking, I mean, my God…”

“Jesus, Bev.” Mike shook his head. “You really think Eddie needs to hear that right now? He’s clearly upset.”

“I’m really not.” Eddie hoped he sounded convincing to the others, because to his own ears he sounded like the biggest phony going. “I said to myself, ‘look, you’ve just turned thirty…’”

“And the clock is ticking.” Bev nodded wisely.

“ _No_ ,” Eddie replied pointedly. “I’ve just turned thirty, and I deserve more than this. I deserve more than… a mundane existence. And I deserve more than being with someone who wants totally different things to me but is so averse to any compromise that we couldn’t possibly end up living a fulfilling life together.” Eddie stopped, took a breath. Poured more wine into his glass. “I’ve had a few days to get used to it, and… I’m fine. I really am fine.”

There was a short silence; Eddie smiled again.

“God,” Bev shook her head. “You are in such great shape.”

*

The afternoon was so hot, and Beverly had drunk so much wine that she and Eddie decided to forego their shopping trip for the day and instead head back to Bev’s apartment for coffee. They waved goodbye to Mike as he jumped into a cab outside the restaurant, then Bev linked a skinny arm into Eddie’s and the pair carried on down the block. Beverly seemed to think that the walking might sober them (her) up, but Eddie was counting down the minutes to when she gave up and decided that they hail a cab.

“Oh, Bev, I just need to pop into the bookstore…” Bev groaned and released Eddie from her grip, the two coming to a halt outside the large bookshop on the corner.

“Jesus, Eddie, I just want to sit down! I’m sweating into my bra over here.”

“I’ll be two seconds, I promise. I promise! I just need to pick up a copy of that new Twilight book, my cousin’s kid wants it for her birthday.”

Bev shook her head but was already lighting up a cigarette. “Go on, then. But hurry up!”

Eddie stepped into the cool interior of the store, delicately wiping a bead of sweat from his temple. The store was busy, busier than Eddie had seen it before when he had frequented the place, and there seemed to be a crowd of customers gathering at the back. Eddie ignored the cluster and headed straight for the ‘New Fiction’ section.

Ah, there it was: the vampire crap.

He picked up the first copy he saw, briefly wondering how many hands had touched that same copy, before banishing the panicky thought from his brain. He looked out of the window behind him – Bev, ever the conversationalist, was hugging a woman that Eddie didn’t recognise. She had so many damn friends.

Irritatingly, Eddie realised, the unexplained crowd of people were clamouring on the way to the till. As he made his way through the store, Eddie realised that they were queuing for something, and every person in the line was holding a large, hardback book.

A book signing, of course.

Eddie tried to politely squeeze his way around a plump girl and her skinny friend to no avail; they were fairly young, he would have guessed about seventeen, and too engrossed in speaking to each other in hushed whispers and craning over the people in front to notice Eddie’s struggle. He sighed and gave up, deciding to wait until the queue thinned slightly.

He tapped his foot. Checked his watch. Pulled at his collar – the store was much hotter now he was surrounded by people.

The queue moved slowly, and Eddie could hear exciting chattering from the front. The till was in sight! Finally, he could –

Then, something caught his eye. A tall man with his arm around a smiling girl was carrying one of the hardbacks as he walked away from the front of the queue, evidently happy about meeting whoever had just signed his book from the way he was excitedly talking to his companion.

Eddie caught a glimpse of the front cover, only briefly – but was able to make out two things:

A huge pair of dark-rimmed glasses.

The name, ‘Richie Tozier’.

Eddie gaped after the two customers leaving the shop.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

One of the girls turned around, grinning at him with train-track braces. “Did you forget your copy?”

“I’m sorry?”

She nodded towards his hand clutching the Twilight book. “You don’t have a copy of _‘Trashmouth Unleashed’._ ”

“Oh,” Eddie grimaced. “I’m, ah. I’m not here for the signing. I’m just trying to buy a book…”

“Oh! Sorry.” The girl dodged to the side, allowing Eddie to pass. He smiled tightly at her and forced his way past the queue, getting closer to the now visible table where that asshole Tozier was evidently sitting.

And suddenly, there he was, sat hunched over a copy of the hardback but talking animatedly to the customer in front of him. Time seemed to slow down as Eddie walked past, taking him in. In the six years since that awful plane journey, Richie Tozier had changed a lot. He looked even bigger; not fat, but sturdy, with those same huge hands and broad shoulders that Eddie remembered. His dark hair was shorter, but he was sporting some black stubble that crept down his neck – it didn’t suit him, made him look older than his thirty years. Then again, Eddie thought, it could be the dark circles and lines around his eyes, slightly shielded by those same thick-rimmed glasses. As Eddie walked around the back of the table to reach the counter, he looked back again. A worn-looking leather jacket stretched across Richie’s broad shoulders but devolved into wrinkles again when he straightened up to hand the signed book back to the customer.

Eddie shook his head. His dream had obviously come true, then. And yet Eddie had never heard of him.

“Hon?”

Eddie started and turned around. A bored-looking woman with dark hair scraped back off her plump face was gazing at him, chewing gum languidly. “Are you buyin’ the book or not?”

“Yes, sorry.” Eddie placed the book on the counter and scrambled to find his wallet. He handed over a note and took the opportunity of the woman cashing his money to look back at Richie. The queue looked even longer from where he was standing.

“Book signings are a pain in the ass.” Eddie turned back at the sound of the woman’s thick Boston accent. She shook her head. “Tonnes of people come into the store, but nobody buys nothin’. Takes up so much goddamn space.”

“Who, um. Who is he?” Eddie ventured to ask.

The woman shrugged as she placed the book into a plastic bag. “Some comedian. My son likes him, watches him on Netflix and, uh, whaddyacallit? The YouTube. I’ve only seen little bits of it, but I don’t like it. Too trashy, too much cussin’.”

Eddie smiled and took the bag off her. “Thank you.”

“Have a good day, hon.”

Eddie managed to worm his way back through the crowd and regroup with Beverly, who was leaning against the redbrick exterior of the store, another cigarette in hand and huge oversized sunglasses obscuring most of her face. She looked like a movie star.

“What took you so long?”

Eddie shook his head. “The strangest thing.”

Bev pushed up her sunglasses, securing them in her hair. “What happened, sweetie?”

“This… this guy. Have you heard of Richie Tozier?”

Bev wrinkled her nose. “Um, vaguely. Comedian, isn’t he? I think he does stand-up. Yeah, I’m sure Henry’s mentioned him.” She took a bitter drag from her cigarette. “Probably took his wife to see him.”

“I know him.”

Bev raised his eyebrows. “Like, personally?”

“Kind of. He’s doing a book signing in the store. We went to the same college and drove from Maine to New York together on graduation day. I saw him again at LAX, like, six years ago? Haven’t heard anything from or about him since.” He took another nervous look into the store. “I didn’t even know he was famous.”

Eddie turned back to Bev and noticed that there was a strange glint in her eyes; her mouth had broken into a huge grin. Eddie sighed. “What is it?”

“You have to go and talk to him!” Bev squealed, grabbing his arm. “Eddie, this is like fate.”

“If you pull out your tarot cards again, I swear to God –”

“Didn’t I tell you this morning? My horoscope said something unexpected was right around the corner!”

“That’s _your_ horoscope, Beverly, not mine.”

“But it’s still something unexpected, and it’s happening to my best friend! Is he gay?”

“Bisexual.”

She all but screamed. “Oh my God! It’s like the universe is pulling you both together, why else would you have run into him in a huge airport?”

“We also ended up sitting together on the flight.”

“Exactly!”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “He’s completely obnoxious. And unhygienic, and rude, and, and…”

“Me think the lady doth protest too much?” Bev said gleefully. She pulled her ridiculous sunglasses back down onto her face. “Look, sweetie, even if it isn’t fate or anything, it won’t hurt just to pop in and say hi. And who knows, if you two become friends there could be some added bonuses. He’s a famous comedian, after all.”

“He can’t be that famous,” Eddie grumbled. “I’ve never heard of him.”

“Well, I’m going to get in a cab, and you’re going to wait in the queue and invite this guy for coffee. And,” she said pointedly, flicking her hair back. “If you try to come with me, I’ll lock you out of my apartment.”

Before Eddie could protest, Beverly had stepped in front of him and hailed a cab, waving goodbye to him as she stepped in. Eddie huffed in annoyance – he figured that he could just go back to his own apartment, get a cool drink and forget all about Richie Tozier.

But on the other hand… it was a coincidence. And it wouldn’t hurt to say a polite ‘hello’.

If Richie even remembered him at all.

The queue was considerably smaller when Eddie stepped back into the shop; he joined the back, sheepishly avoiding the eyes of the cashier who had just served him. For some reason, his heart was beating rather quickly. Come on, Kaspbrak, Eddie thought to himself. Don’t be a sucker.

_You know, nothing good can come of this, Eddie-bear._

Sonia.

Eddie screwed his eyes shut and banished her from his head. He didn’t need her hanging over him now, not at the age of thirty. He wasn’t a momma’s boy.

“Um, dude? Are you getting a book signed or what?”

Eddie’s eyes snapped open; Richie Tozier was looking straight at him with a strange expression on his face. Eddie felt himself flush and walked forward. This was stupid, so goddamn stupid, Richie didn’t even recognise him, and he’d have to explain why he didn’t have a book, and –

“Fuck me! Eddie Kaspbrak!”

Richie’s face broke into a broad smile, his tired eyes crinkling up with mirth. Eddie smiled too, despite himself.

“Hi, Richie.”

Richie laughed and shook his head. “How are you, man?”

“I’m… good, thank you.”

“How’s, um… Joe, was it?”

“Yes, Joe. He’s fine.” Eddie paused. “I hear he’s fine.”

“You aren’t with Joe anymore?”

“We just broke up.”

Richie’s smile faded, transforming his face into an expression of what looked like real remorse. “Oh, shit. That’s too bad, man.”

“Yeah, well, you know. Shit happens.” Eddie smiled. Richie smiled. For a moment, the air was laced with stilted awkwardness.

“So,” Eddie said brightly to fill the silence. “How are you? I had… sorry, I had absolutely no idea that you’d, like, written a book. I don’t really watch comedy stuff, so it never comes up on my Netflix recommendations.”

Richie smiled self-deprecatingly. “Nah, dude, don’t worry about it. I’m, ah… I’m okay.” He laughed again, but it was a slightly pained sound. “I’m really fuckin’ lonely, you know? I just got a divorce.”

Eddie felt his breath hitch. No wonder Richie looked so tired. “Oh, Richie. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

Richie shrugged. “Well, what can you do?”

Another pause.

“So,” Richie smiled back up at Eddie, showing white teeth. “What happened with you and Joe?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh i love writing bev so much! if any of you have watched when harry met sally, i've based her character of carrie fisher's marie from the film!
> 
> hope you're all enjoying <3


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